Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ The First Death ❯ Chapter 3: The Second Life, Part 1 ( Chapter 3 )

Summary: Enma's messenger brings a new responsibility into Terazuma and Wakaba's life. Muraki faces the consequences of Hisoka's actions, and Tsuzuki offers a glimpse into the past. Continuity is post-Kyoto through manga volume 9 (a bit of a mix of both).

The Second Life

|Muraki|

If only this were real.

Fire, the snap of the burning air around me. I'm falling, but I'm still on my feet.

If only this…were…

Saki! Come back here, you bastard. I'm not done with you. Not by half.

*******

|Terazuma|

Fire. The snap of the lighter as it clicks shut. Terazuma scowls, and shoves the sleek metal object back in his shirt pocket. The last thing he needs right now is to get on that damned Tatsumi's nerves, what with the stupid rule about smoking inside. Irritably, he mumbles imprecations to himself as he stalks down the hall.

Fine way to start a morning. He has better plans than sitting around all day in the office like some sort of moss-growing rock. But here he is, because the Fujiwara case needs final processing, and he definitely isn't going to make Kannuki run back here at the Chief's beck and call just because some papers need to be submitted.

And now this. Terazuma hates meeting the messenger.

"Damn that Watari. Too busy my ass. Too busy trying to figure out how to poison the rest of the department," he mutters, the cigarette between his lips quivering as he speaks around it.

It's perhaps seven, seven-thirty in the morning. Terazuma's been here since six, trying to get things wrapped up so he can take a deserved day off. It's going to be a three-day weekend. He's promised Wakaba they'd go to the beach. In Summons Division, they don't really believe in paying overtime because of the budget crunch, but they do give them comp time. So when the Shinigami work overtime when they're in-office, it's expected that at some point, they'll get a day, two days off to compensate.

He taps his foot impatiently, waiting at the appointed spot. Watari usually meets the messenger on the days that it comes, because he's here the earliest. Most of the other Shinigami don't trickle in until after eight.

"Of all the damned…" Terazuma's voice trails off, as the hallway darkens.

It's here. The messenger.

Enma's messenger never speaks. The rule is to never ask. Never look. Just accept what you've been given, and turn away.

No one knows how old the messenger is. Or exactly what the messenger looks like, because no one really tries to look. It's forbidden. Some of the older ones say that they think there have been different messengers over time. Terazuma really can't give a rat's ass. He just wants done with the daily duty so he can go home and pick up Wakaba.

Terazuma bows his head, feeling the cold passage before him. The air shifts, as if the gathering of shadows into a particular point. The Shikigami within him stirs restlessly, unsettled. He closes his eyes and offers his hands, palms upward.

Two items.

One's a hand.

*******

|Muraki|

I'm still dreaming, but I can't wake up.

I'm chasing Saki, through fire that laps and licks at me, but never quite touches me. It seems like the inside of eternity, going on and on. Occasionally we fight. But ever the chase. He laughs, and goes ever deeper into the heart of the flames. Suddenly, I'm inside (inside of what?), and ribbons of fire dance about me, surging forth. It's a rapturous blaze, beautiful, terrible, consuming me, destroying me, burning me away. And then, my eyes open and…

I raise my left hand. Long flowing black sleeves plucked through with the woven word slide silkily around my wrist. Gate. The kanji swirls throughout the fabric, embedded in every inch. These clothes are ridiculous. I've never had a dream where I was wearing an ancient magistrate's black court garment.

I don't recall liking black.

Things are becoming clearer now. The floor is tiled in granite. Sunlight is coming through a window. The wall is a bland institutional white. Everything is clean but a little scuffed, as if well used.

And someone is holding my right hand. I look up at a very surprised face. Jet-black hair, dark eyes that hint toward crimson, sharp markings along the cheekbones, pointed ears…barely looks human. An unlit cigarette begins to fall from his lips. Its movement catches my eye, and my gaze follows it down to its resting place on the floor.

My eyes. With my free hand, I brush aside the silvery veil of my hair distractedly. My eyes wander over to the window. Both of them. I can see clearly. There are birds outside, in the blooming sakura trees.

Sakura. But it's summer. These things don't match.

"Just a dream," I murmur, my voice sounding strange to my ears, as if I had never spoken before in my life. "Just a dream, Kazutaka. Wake up."

"Sorry to break it to you." The other man releases my hand. He's got a thick scroll of papers in his other hand, which he tucks under his arm. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. He taps out a cigarette. Momentarily he hesitates, but he shrugs and lights up anyway. "You're not sleeping," he says finally, after taking a long drag. You're dead." Tendrils of smoke rise into the air.

"Oh." I blink. "Well."

"Ah shit." He scowls. The markings along his cheeks pull tighter, accentuating his feral features, making him appear deadly angry. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Kannuki's gonna be pissed."

"Kannuki?" I'm not sure what to think anymore. Dream, not dream. Dead, not dead. I decide to pinch myself. It hurts. The little red mark on the back of my hand fades quickly.

"Yeah. Okay, I gotta take this to the Chief."

"Chief?"

"Yeah, the Chief. Just follow me. Don't wander off by yourself, and whatever you do, try not to talk to anyone just yet. They can mess with you some other time. You're still settling in."

I know what all those words mean. Just not in that order.

He scowls, and grabs me by the wrist, dragging me along.

"Come on, let's go. I don't have all day."

Where are we going?

*******

|Terazuma|

Terazuma isn't that young. He isn't that old either.

But what he does know is that he's never had to do this.

Tradition holds it that the first Shinigami to meet a newly born Shinigami becomes his or her guardian. Mentor. Guide. At least, temporarily, until they get settled in. In another circumstance, it might almost be funny, a joke about the imprinting of a baby chick upon a mother hen. But today, it's not so good.

Terazuma's in a bad mood.

Usually, it happens in other ways. Terazuma himself woke up under a sakura tree. The first person he met (who is now gone, by the way) had been eating lunch. When she saw Terazuma appear, she dropped her onigri. Rumor has it, Tsuzuki wandered around Meifu for three days before someone found him. Konoe himself eventually had to go physically search for Tsuzuki, after he managed to evade everyone else. When Konoe found him, Tsuzuki had been talking to a sparrow.

This usually didn't happen. In fact, it almost never happens like this. Usually, you'll wake up somewhere in the Meifu, walk around a bit, and someone will find you. There's only been a tiny handful of Shinigami who were hand-delivered by Enma's messenger. It's been centuries since Enma himself sent one.

There's another odd thing too. Terazuma hasn't noticed it yet, but he will soon.

*******

|Muraki|

He drags me to a halt before a door. It's not very distinguished, other than the nameplate and title. Summons Division, Chief. The words are familiar. En. Ma. Cho. I roll the words around on my tongue. They taste like Chinese.

He lets me go and knocks impatiently, before yelling at the door. "Yo, Chief! Open up! I need to talk."

"What is it?" A mild voice replies. The door opens. Terazuma looks annoyed. It's not the Chief. But I recognize this man.

And he recognizes me.

"You!" Immediately, the pool of shadow beneath a nearby window begins twisting, previously straight lines now writhing as if reality is suddenly distorted. Other shadows follow, pooling out of their natural habitats as if heeding a silent call.

"Tatsumi-san." The word comes tumbling out of my mouth before I remember the significance. Something inside of me clicks, and a gush of memories come flying out. My hand slicked with blood, a splattered white coat, black shadows rushing through the air like the crest of a wave, screams in the night. I blink.

"Oy. Hold it right there, Tatsumi," the feral man grabs Tatsumi's upraised hand. Immediately, the shadows pause, mid-turn. "He's with me."

"What do you mean, Terazuma?" Tatsumi glares daggers at me. So that's his name. Tera. Zuma.

"He came with the mail. See?" Terazuma hands over the scroll. Tatsumi takes it with a polite nod of acknowledgement. "I don't know why. I don't care. But tell the Chief that I'm done with the papers from the Fujiwara case, and I'm going home."

"What are you going to do? With him?" Tatsumi spits out the words like they're poisonous.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" The corner of Terazuma's eye twitches. "Enma's messenger gave him to me, so I'm going to take him home and let him figure out what the hell's going on while I babysit. Hopefully he won't break anything. Maybe he'll be okay by Monday. Maybe he won't be. I don't know, and I don't care. I just want to get the hell out of this office as soon as possible."

"Enma's…messenger?" Tatsumi gapes.

"The one and only." My guardian steps forward. "I told you he came with the mail. Look at his clothes, genius. Why do you think he's here?"

At that, Tatsumi's mouth closes. He scrutinizes me closely, before catching a hold of the long fabric of my sleeve, and bringing it closer. The forward movement drags me along. This, for whatever reason, does not bother me. I think it should.

"Gate?" Tatsumi looks puzzled, his finger poring over the woven cloth. "The Gate of the Western Heaven."

"Enma's mark? Ah shit." Terazuma puts out his neglected cigarette against the bottom of his shoe, and tosses the stub in a nearby trashcan. "I knew I shouldn't have come in this morning. Damnit!" He's off on a cursing streak.

This is about when they remember I'm here.

"Terazuma." Tatsumi's voice stops Terazuma in his tracks. He's a cold one. Tatsumi continues. "I need you to get him out of here, right now. Before those two get in. Do you know what I mean?"

"No, but you can tell me later. I'll call." Terazuma's hand catches me by the elbow. It's a no-nonsense grip. "Come on. We're out of here," he says as he escorts me out with quick and determined steps.

I had better wake up soon. I'm not sure I like this dream.

*******

|Hisoka|

I love Fridays. But I think if anyone *loves* Fridays, it's going to be Tsuzuki. Not just because it's the end of the week - it's also because that's the one day of the week when the Chief buys donuts for the division.

He's such a fiend for donuts. Especially free donuts. Heaven forbid that you get between the man and his donut. Chocolate with sprinkles or a twist dusted in granulated sugar. Preferably both: one in each hand, with a hot mug of tea. Don't ask me how he gets to the tea. I don't like thinking about it too much.

In the last few months, we've taken to walking together to work. It's not too far out of the way since we only live a few blocks apart. Every morning, he comes and knocks on my door. Okay, once or twice a week - the rest of the time, I have to go over there and drag his sorry Shinigami butt out of bed.

Did I mention he's also a fiend for sleep? I swear he naps at every possible chance that he can get. Like that time in Nagasaki, when he was 'pretending' to be asleep so that he could play decoy. That translates as, "I got bored waiting, and so I dozed off, and I was lucky I didn't get eaten." Of course, he'll never tell.

So now we're heading in. It's really breezy today, and I think it might rain tonight. That'll be a nice change. You can really get tired of nice sunny days. Sometimes I just wish for a good lightning storm just to break the monotony. But I think the majority prefers it like this. Less snow to shovel, I guess.

Oh well. If I'm that desperate for weather, I can always go up to Chijou. It's typhoon season up there now. If I time it just right, I can always tie myself to a tree and go from there. Just watch out for the flying refrigerators and livestock.

Speaking of witless animals, Tsuzuki starts dragging me as we get closer, and we come bounding into the office. We're early today. Nothing like donuts to motivate a man. If that man happens to be Tsuzuki, that is. Sometimes I think the Chief does it just so that Tsuzuki will get to work early once a week.

Me, I'm still a little sleepy. I stayed up too late last night reading. Must require morning tea. Yawn. But it's Friday, so I don't care. I'll just suffer through it, and sleep in tomorrow. That's one thing I can agree with Tsuzuki on. Sleeping in on Saturday is the absolute best thing ever.

Of course, we run into Tatsumi. He's always here at this hour. Something's wrong, though. I could feel him before I even got near him. Anger's darkening the air around him like black storm clouds gathering around a mountain. I wonder why…its not like Tsuzuki's tried to get any expenses reimbursed lately.

But it's not directed at Tsuzuki.

"You two. We need to talk." Tatsumi's voice sounds clipped and tight. You know it's a bad thing when Tatsumi skips all the niceties and goes straight to the point.

"Is something wrong, Tatsumi?" Tsuzuki looks at Tatsumi. He's worried. And feeling just a little anxious. I guess he's probably wondering what he did wrong this time.

Tatsumi motions us to follow him, and we go into his office.

"It's Muraki," Tatsumi says, once we've sat down.

"What about him?" I ask.

"He's back."

"That…that's impossible." Frantically, I start panicking, fumbling at the buttons of my shirtsleeves. Are the curse marks back? Are they? God, please no…I can't…not like this…oh God…

"What do you mean, Tatsumi? I thought he was dead." Fortunately, Tsuzuki seems a bit more grounded about this than I am. But it's starting to get really cold in here. I'm shivering, badly. My fingers don't work right. Tsuzuki reaches out and his hand closes over mine, and the tremors subside a little. Just a little.

"He's quite thoroughly dead. That's why he's here." Tatsumi frowns.

"What do you mean, here?" Tsuzuki stands up with a violent burst of motion. The chair nearly tips over from the force of his movement. Anger crackles off of him, like a building charge of lightning. Well, I guess I am getting my thunderstorm after all. "Here? In Meifu?!"

"Enma's messenger brought him with next week's directive," Tatsumi says bluntly, gesturing to Enma's latest communiqué. "He's at Terazuma's place right now. Or he will be, in a few minutes." Tatsumi checks his watch.

"Is there a decision?" I blurt out, without meaning to. The anxiety of waiting for Enma's decision has been eating away at me for the last week or so. It's insane. Tsuzuki keeps telling me to relax, and be patient, but it's not exactly an easy thing to do. The fact that it could take anything from days to centuries doesn't make me feel any better about it.

"Sorry, Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi says. "But that causes us some more problems. I talked to the Chief about having you two sent out on a case, any case…but until we get a decision from Enma, you won't be allowed to leave Meifu."

Oh right. I forgot about that. Damnit.

"At the very least, we need to get Tsuzuki-san out of *his* way," Tatsumi continues. He fiddles with his pen. Little pinpricks of anxiety dance around him. "I'm sorry. But you're going to have to be reassigned, Tsuzuki."

The room grows silent.

No way. This isn't happening. It's so cold that I think I'm going to break.

Wake up, Hisoka. It's just a bad dream. Please let it be just a bad dream.

*******

|Terazuma|

There are lots of things that bother Terazuma. Very high up on the list are things involving his inability to touch women and Tsuzuki's existence. But what bothers him more are mysteries.

Terazuma likes to think that he understands Meifu. So when things like this come along, he quickly becomes disconcerted.

There are rules and regulations. You can fill a room with the books on Enma's various decrees over the millennia. You can fill a bookcase with the various writings on Shinigami and their nature. The Shinigami themselves follow a policy that if compiled properly, weighs at least five pounds.

Meifu's mysteries, on the other hand, fill perhaps a page of terse wording. If that.

Unfortunately, they tend to be terribly important mysteries.

Terazuma doesn't like this. He doesn't want to play babysitter. He doesn't like being shuffled out of the main office, even if he did want to leave it. And especially, he doesn't like to be reminded that once he was also a newly born Shinigami, gaping at the sakura that flowers even in the winter.

Terazuma really, really doesn't like to be reminded of that.

He looks at Muraki, and thinks that they should get him something less ridiculous to wear before the day's out. The black silk of the archaic officer's garment that Muraki wears is said to be the first and the last garment; the one that Shinigami appear in and are expected to leave in. Terazuma plans on ignoring this tradition and leaving in style when the time comes. Or maybe some shorts. That's not going to be for a long while though.

But more importantly, he knows the significance of Enma's mark on a Shinigami, the word woven into the very fiber of the cloth. He doesn't know what the specific significance is though. Everyone's got a different one. Terazuma himself was marked with 'fire.' He had always thought it meant something else until he met KaGanKokuShunGei.

All Terazuma knows about the significance of Enma's mark is that it's significant. This annoys Terazuma to no end, because he doesn't like puzzles that fold into themselves.

But as he looks at Muraki, he can't help but feel a sick twisty feeling in his stomach. After all, Terazuma has been a detective for years, and he likes to keep up with things. Especially mysteries. So he knows that this is the second Shinigami in less than a century that has been singled out by Enma with the mark of the gate of the western paradise. It's unprecedented.

As he drags Muraki out of the general administration building, he's wondering what the significance of this is.

Especially since he knows that the first to carry Enma's mark is Tsuzuki.

*******

|Muraki|

"So." Finally, he releases my elbow. I take this to mean that we're a safe distance from whatever he wants me removed from. "I'm Terazuma. Terazuma Hajime."

"Muraki Kazutaka." We're walking down a tree-lined sidewalk. The wind rustles the leaves above us, scattering the mosaic of shadows at our feet. We've just passed a park. It looks like any nice neighborhood in Tokyo, if all of the people and street traffic were removed. It's very quiet here. I'm starting to feel more solid, more awake. It helps immensely.

"Muraki. I remember you now." Terazuma looks at me warily. "11th division."

"11th division?" I blink.

"Yeah, the Chief said that if you had continued the way you were going, they were going to add a division just for you," Terazuma scowls. "I think he was kidding, but you really knew how to cause trouble."

"Ah. I suppose that's right." Knew. We walk. It's a lovely day. The air is exceedingly clean, far too much so to be the Tokyo that I know. Yet it certainly looks like Tokyo.

"How are you feeling? Hungry?" Terazuma glances at me speculatively, as if he's not sure what to make of this entire situation.

"A little." It takes effort, but I continue on blithely as if there's not a thing in the world that's wrong. If nothing, it makes me feel more grounded. Deep breaths. I conceal my hands within the long sleeves of the robe so they won't shake so noticeably.

"There's food at my place." Terazuma looks at me crosswise. "You'll need something else to wear too."

"Thank you, Terazuma-san. That sounds good."

A long pause.

"You're taking this pretty well. You know you're dead, right?" Terazuma looks annoyed.

"If you say so."

He exhales sharply, a derisive sound. "You of all people should know about Meifu. I mean, you knew how to find Tsuzuki."

"Yes. He's not hard to find, if you're serious about it."

"Right. Serious. You know, I've never, EVER met a normal human being who could see us if we didn't want them to, serious or not." Terazuma sounds immensely irritated. "Don't give me any bullshit."

"Mmm." I make a noncommittal noise. I turn my head slightly, taking in landscape, trying to discern what I can out of it. A little owl's perched on a nearby tree. It flaps away before I can get a closer look. Owls in the daytime. This is not a natural place.

We walk in silence the rest of the way. It's not too far.

"We're here." Terazuma stops in front of a modest western style house. It's cream with dark brown trim. His hand rests on the black wrought iron gate that leads into the front yard. "Before we go in. Ground rules. You're not allowed upstairs, ever. Don't break anything, even if you feel like it. And if you give Kannuki any problems or bother her - anything at all, I will personally gut you alive and give what's left to Tatsumi."

"All right." I keep my voice mild. The man's a terror.

"As long as you understand that," Terazuma says. He opens the door.

"Hajime-chaaaaan!" A bright voice sings out sweetly, followed by the growing clatter of footsteps coming down the stairs. "You're back! I made breakfast, and you better hurry or else…or else…" She stops when she sees us.

She's a wisp of a girl, barely tall enough to reach the height of my shoulder. Long waves of auburn hair frame her delicate face, tied back with trailing pink ribbons. She's wearing what looks like a school uniform, though it looks to be a bit out of style.

It's a twinge of pain, the memory. I work on ignoring it. However, indifference only fuels it.

"Hey Kannuki. Sorry I'm late." Terazuma pulls off his shoes and sets them at the entrance. I follow suit. "This is Muraki Kazutaka. I met him this morning."

"Oh, okay. Um, pleased to meet you! My name is Kannuki Wakaba." She beams prettily, extending her hand to mine.

"My pleasure," I take her hand politely, moving through the motions automatically. She looks at me curiously. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Terazuma twitch with suppressed anger. "Kannuki-san, is it?"

"Oh, you can call me Wakaba. Everyone does. Did you want to join us for breakfast? You'll have to excuse us, it can't be for too long - we're supposed to meet with some friends to go to the beach today."

"Er…about that…Kannuki-kun…" Terazuma looks almost embarrassed. "I sort of can't go."

"Why?!"

"See, I *met* him. He just got here. You know?" Terazuma gives her such a pleading look. "He's now my responsibility." He looks resigned.

"Ooh!" Her eyes grow very wide. "You're new?"

"It appears to be so," I reply.

"Why didn't you say so?!" I think I may have triggered some sort of strange maternal instinct, because her voice is full of concern as she's ushering me into the house proper. This in contrast to Terazuma baffles me. "Come here, let's get you some breakfast, and then you can rest. Terazuma, go see if you can find something of yours he can wear."

I wonder what they eat here.

*******

|Tsuzuki|

"I refuse." Tsuzuki states finally. We've been at this for a few minutes now. The walls are practically about to melt with force of the anger building up in here. I'm jittery as all hell. Who needs coffee or tea to wake up with this sort of madness? I am totally and completely awake now. In fact, I don't think I'll be able to sleep again, ever.

"I told you, Tzusuki, we don't think you're going to be safe around here with him. Now, I know you don't want to abandon Kurosaki-kun," Tsuzuki winces when he says that, but Tatsumi doesn't notice, "but really, you need to think about yourself for once. What if Muraki…" Tatsumi trails off, unable to continue. He's frustrated. It's like the rasp of an iron file against the edges of my senses. I concentrate on blocking things out.

"It's okay, Tsuzuki. I understand…it's only temporary, right? Go to Chijou for a while. If Muraki's really a Shinigami, he's bound to get assigned to something in the next few weeks. If not, peace division will get rid of him." I say, a little more blankly than I mean to. It's just so hard trying to block things out while trying not to think of Muraki. It's like trying not to think of an orange. Don't think of an orange. Orange. Damnit.

"No, it's not okay." Tsuzuki is working himself up into a fierce rage. If this doesn't get resolved soon, I think I'm going to have to run away, because my brain's about to snap. "Hisoka, I'm not leaving. And Tatsumi…"

He takes a deep breath. Uh oh.

"Tatsumi. I refuse to be reassigned, under any circumstance. If you bring this up again, I will transfer."

"Tsuzuki." Tatsumi's shock is like the plunge of ice. I've never felt Tatsumi so scared, ever. Everyone knows that Tsuzuki's been courted by the nine other kings of Meifu at one point or another. I guess they're willing to put up with his bad record for the sake of his power. It's no big secret that Tsuzuki's always been singled out by Enma, even right from the beginning.

"I mean it, Tatsumi. I won't allow this. I finally found a partner who will stay with me, no matter what, and I'm not going to abandon him." Ouch. Tatsumi looks calm, but there aren't enough words to describe how dark it's gotten inside of him. I can see his hand tremble.

"Tsuzuki," I say incredulously. It seems to snap him out of that scary anger zone. He immediately begins to calm down, the anger trickling out of him. Now he feels scared. I think he knows that he's hurt Tatsumi.

"Tatsumi, I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Tsuzuki apologizes, his hand reaching out for Tatsumi's. Tatsumi however, straightens up, pulling away.

"That settles it, then," he says woodenly. I can feel him straining for control. "Please let me know if you need anything. I need to begin processing next week's directive." It's a dismissal, if I've ever heard one.

I drag Tsuzuki out. The door closes behind us.

Emotions might be too scared to cross the door into the dragon's lair, but they're also afraid to leave it. I'm trying very hard not to pry, but it's so tempting to find out.

I guess there's always been something going on between those two. Since I've never heard of anyone who was able to make Tatsumi cry.

*******

|Muraki|

A delicate bud of a girl, frozen in a moment of eternal time. If it weren't so tragic that she was obviously dead, I thought, it would be a lovely thing.

Wakaba chatters happily as she sets dishes of food down, blithely ignoring any hint of strangeness, as if this were just any normal breakfast in any normal place. I've changed into something of Terazuma's, some loose khaki trousers (too short at the ankle) and a dark blue long-sleeved shirt that he said I could keep, as someone had given it to him as a gift but it was too big. It's more colors than I have worn in over a decade, and after the initial shock, it's proven to be surprisingly pleasant. The black garment has been carefully folded and packed away. Apparently I'm to keep it safe.

"First things first," Wakaba pronounces, "Itadakimasu!"

We eat. It's a nice simple breakfast, hot rice and pickled vegetables, a bit of grilled fish and fried eggs. I'm not sure what I expected, but something so comfortingly Japanese seemed to be a kindness.

After we're done eating she pours me some more tea from a little ceramic pot. Something about that sets off a barrage of memories. Without meaning to, I press the back of my hand against my closed eyes, as if to blot out the images.

"Something wrong?" Terazuma looks at me. I would almost say that's a look of concern, but it's hard to tell with him. He constantly looks angry.

"Mmm, no. Just a twinge," I whisper. "It'll pass." But it doesn't. I can't believe this. I usually have such a good hold over my thoughts and emotions, but I'm all a terrible mess today. It hasn't been like this in years and years. But it's worse than usual, because I can't block it out. It's as if I can't remember how. Her hand on the tea pot, it was ice cold from the rain…

"Muraki-san?" Wakaba pats me on the head as if I'm a fond stray. "Do you want to go lie down? It's going to be like this for a few days."

"Days?"

"Yeah, it takes a while to get used to being here," Terazuma explains. "I think it has to do with your body being too new for the soul or something like that. Watari told me about it once, but I don't remember all the details." He stands up. "Come on, I'll take you to my room. You can go lie down or something. I got to call Tatsumi anyway."

"Thank you." I let him lead me to a room on the first floor. It's a good-sized room, part office, part bedroom. There's a narrow bed in the corner, and massive bookshelf against the wall lined with labeled binders.

I lie down, on top of the neatly made covers. Everything smells unfamiliar. I've never really been anywhere that wasn't my own or on my terms in ages. I don't remember the last time.

Terazuma leaves the room, and closes the door behind him. I suppose he thinks of it as a favor.

But I don't want to be alone like this anymore.

*******

|Terazuma|

The house is nice and quiet now, filled with brilliant morning light. Terazuma's sent Wakaba off to meet the girls from the peace division (Kazuma Shin and Nonomiya Kochou). They had all managed to get a day off at the same time to go to the beach. But Terazuma's stuck here.

It makes him mad, but he makes light of it to Wakaba. After all, she's worked hard and deserves a day off. Of course, he does too, but he's not going to ask her to stay on account of him. She gives him some resistance at first, but in the end, they both agree that it's better not to break a date with the peace division girls. After all, they have big guns. But she promises to be home early, so she can take him out to dinner. She feels that it's the least she can do.

Terazuma goes about the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast. It's their arrangement - whoever cleans doesn't cook and whoever cooks doesn't clean. Terazuma does a lot of cleaning. It's not that he can't cook because he's actually pretty good at it, but Wakaba likes cooking for him, so he lets it go. Besides, there's just something about her cooking that in his mind tastes better.

After he's done, Terazuma checks on Muraki, who looks like he hasn't moved since he left him there. Muraki's been very well behaved so far. This fills Terazuma with much relief. When Terazuma first woke in Meifu, his way of dealing with it was to break things. Lots of them. It had been very embarrassing once things settled down. Muraki though, seems to be sleeping. This makes things much easier for Terazuma.

Terazuma decides that it's time to call Tatsumi. Among the other questions that he has, he needs some advice on what he has to do to get Muraki set up. Tatsumi hasn't oriented anyone himself, but Terazuma thinks that he probably knows the most about the process since he has the access to the most information short of the Gushoushin.

"This is Tatsumi." Tatsumi sounds particularly terse. Terazuma vaguely wonders what pissed Tatsumi off as he leans against the cool tile of the kitchen counter.

"Hey, it's me. So this Muraki guy, did the directive mention anything? Is he legit?"

There's a pause. Terazuma hears the sound of papers being shuffled. "Yes, all his papers are in order. It's official. I've already started a file."

"I wanted to know what I'm supposed to do to get him set up. Do I need to drop by and pick up any documentation for him to sign or something?" Terazuma rummages through a utility drawer and pulls out a notepad with a pen, and idly taps it, waiting for Tatsumi's response.

"No, everything's arranged for. His account will be activated on Monday, and housing will come through sometime next week."

"What am I supposed to do until then?" Terazuma writes down the dates, and frowns.

"Save all your receipts, and submit them with a statement of business justification. You'll get reimbursed for any expenses."

"No, I mean, what am I supposed to *do*? I don't know how this works."

"Hold on, I need to find the checklist," Tatsumi says. Terazuma waits patiently. "Ah, here it is. Explain the basics of Meifu. Answer any of his questions. Get him fitted for clothes. Have him study the policy manuals. Take him around the office and make sure he knows where everything is. Introduce him to the necessary people in the various departments."

"Let me write this down." Terazuma scribbles furiously. "Anything else?"

A sigh. "I need you to keep him away from Tsuzuki and Kurosaki-kun."

"I'm not going to ask why, because that's a stupid question, but exactly how am I supposed to keep him away from them? Even if you send them out, he's bound to run into them sooner or later."

There's a pause.

"I'll think of something. I'm waiting for the Chief to return from a meeting. Just call in before you come in on Monday."

"All right. Have a nice weekend then."

"Thanks. You too."

Terazuma sets the phone down and looks at his list. It's not too bad. He'll go check to see if Muraki's awake and try to get some of these things done.

But first, he's going to go water the garden. It's too nice of a day to be cooped up indoors.

*******

|Hisoka|

"Hey," I say. Tsuzuki looks up at me, but he doesn't seem to really notice.

Tsuzuki is sitting at his desk, with a big pile of cases that need to be reviewed before closure. The done stack is remarkably small. He's lost in his own little world. I can feel his mind running over through a cycle of thoughts. I'm not sure exactly what he's thinking about, but I can definitely guess.

The thoughts run back and forth through his head like a hamster in a wheel. If it wasn't so serious, it might be funny.

"Tsuzuki." It's not hard to sound annoyed when you're annoyed.

"Oh, Hisoka." Tsuzuki snaps out of it. Hamster's off the wheel. Good.

"Tsuzuki, it's lunchtime."

"Oh, okay." He looks at me a bit blankly. Maybe I need to grab that hamster before it gets back on.

"In most countries, that means we walk out of the office for about an hour and eat something. One of those being Japan," I say.

"Right." Tsuzuki stands up, and follows me docilely out.

It's getting toward the end of the month, and that means tuna sandwiches. Or at least it would for Tsuzuki if it wasn't for me. Tsuzuki's terrible with his finances, so by the end of the month, his account's running on fumes. You know it's a bad sign when he starts paying with change. Me, I turned out to be surprisingly good at managing money. Never had to when I was alive, but it's not that hard. Maybe it's because I've always been fairly decent with numbers.

It's sad how even in the afterlife nothing's free. I still have to put coins in the washing machines at the laundromat. You'd think that somehow the clothes would clean themselves through some mystical process, but no. Every weekend, shove a pile of clothes in a bag and walk down the street to use their machines. No matter how many Shikigami a man can call, he's still got to separate the darks from the lights. It's almost depressing. I guess in a pinch, you could always ask them to do your laundry, but somehow I think that could only end in tragedy.

Sometimes I've wondered how the others get around their finances, since only the people that work for Juuohcho (like us) draw a paycheck. I'd ask, but it's too rude. My guess is that there are enough employees of Juuohcho to keep the economy afloat. I'm not sure though. It's not like we have a stock exchange or something.

Anyhow, bad news calls for the big guns, so I take Tsuzuki to a local curry house. I personally despise it because it's too spicy, but they have some vaguely western noodle dishes that aren't too bad. I only know they're vaguely western because of Tatsumi - he's been overseas before, and apparently they don't put squid in spaghetti carbonara over there. Their loss, I guess.

Too bad neither of us are particularly hungry, because the food's really good today. Normally Tsuzuki would be tearing into his lunch like nobody's business, but today, the only thing gnawing is the guilt. He's just pushing the croquette around like a little crispy boat on a sea of curry. It's really depressing to watch.

"Tsuzuki." He's startled from his thoughts. "Are you all right?" Well, I know he's not but it always helps to ask. It works better than 'Stop guilting in my general direction, it's starting to get on my nerves.'

"Sure," he says, brightening. Someone pay me a hundred yen for every time he tries to conceal his emotions - I think I want to start saving up to buy a house.

"Right." I glare at him. "You've been moving that around your plate for the last ten minutes. I think it's safe to eat, since it's probably dead by now."

"Oh." He stares blankly at his fork for a moment, as if he just remembered it was in his hand. Automatically, he starts eating, as if he doesn't remember exactly what he's ingesting. Well, I guess that's a start.

I watch him eat, silently. That's really one of the more interesting things about being with Tsuzuki, is to just be able to be quiet together. I guess we've really grown on each other to not feel like we always have to talk. It's kind of nice. It's all still strange, and I'm a little weirded out by it, but the fact that I'm not alone anymore is actually…well, cool. Especially when I remember that he's willing to fight with Tatsumi and get in Muraki's line of fire for me.

Muraki. Ah shit, and I was enjoying these noodles. Oh well. I guess I'll get them wrapped up and eat them later. I set down my fork.

"Hey Tsuzuki," I say. "What are we going to do about Muraki?"

"We'll both have to stay away from him…at least for a while." Tsuzuki looks at me thoughtfully, tapping the handle of his fork against his chin. I could hear the thought gears grinding around his skull. "I don't know if he'll try to find us or not, since Terazuma probably has him on a short leash. But to be safe…"

"To be safe what?"

"I was…er…" Tsuzuki's starting to blush, just faintly. I can't believe this. He's embarrassed into the red, but he's fighting it. I almost want to laugh because it's so ridiculously sweet.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if…maybe-you'd-like-to-stay-over-at-my-place-this-weekend," he says in a breathless blur. Then, more manageably, "Because then, if something happens, I could protect you. Or vice versa," Tsuzuki adds, seeing my expression. "We could order pizza." He's smiling now and it's quite genuine, if a bit pleading. I like him much better like this.

"Sure, that sounds good. I'll meet you after work."

*******

|Muraki|

New clothes and so appallingly normal that I'd almost be disgusted with myself if the alternative wasn't some sort of ridiculous Heian era garment. Instead of Terazuma's castoffs, I've now managed to somehow pick up Tatsumi's. I've a feeling that Tatsumi-san won't find it of much amusement that we wear practically the same size in clothing. Perhaps if we are to be coworkers, as it seems to be, I shall need to invest in a high-powered flashlight if I want to survive my first week.

At the least, I have shoes. Black leather, a little tight, but at least I'm not barefoot anymore.

It will have to do for now as it was what the tailor had on hand. At least he found me a shirt in a pale, almost silvery blue - brown of course would hardly be appropriate with my coloring. That however was about as far as luck would have it, as I'm back to a black suit until more clothes can be made. I suppose on a certain level it's sufficiently funereal.

This reminds me. I should see about going to my own funeral, if I haven't missed it already. At least, I would be properly attired.

In the last few hours, there have been a variety of things that I've learnt about this place. Most of them are incredibly mundane, such as where to buy one's groceries, or the corner store that sells sodas, cigarettes, and candies as well as the newspaper. It's a thriving community, the one that lives in the world that parallels the world of the living.

According to Terazuma, the bulk of the population outside of Juuohcho's employees consists primarily of humans whose connection to the world of the living is so strong that they cannot pass on properly, with the remainder consisting of the occasional spiritual beast and a tiny population of retired officials. Apparently there's an option to retire and stay in Meifu, instead of going onto the true death.

Death. Oh yes, we're not merely friends anymore. I suppose now we're lovers and living together, as the analogy goes.

The memory of death is frightening. I don't particularly enjoy thinking of it. But mere minutes after I laid down in that dim room on a stranger's bed, my mind wandered back to that moment, the instant when bullet penetrated flesh and bone and on through the heart. It was a wrenching pain, a second of blackness that smeared and spread like a splatter of ink against my consciousness. And then I was falling.

Yet it seems that it was good that the boy knew what he was doing. I suffered very little in death, as it goes. Nice boy, that one, when he's not thwarting me. Surely he would argue that I deserved far worse, but it was a clean shot. I've no opinion though, other than perhaps a sense of irony that makes me want to congratulate him on his little feat. It's not easy to kill a man in one blow, you know. Amazingly fragile on one hand, and surprisingly difficult to kill on the other, human beings.

Terazuma's a wealth of information if you know what to ask. Otherwise, he continues pointing out various points of interest as we walk back to his house with the packages of clothing. The park. A kind old woman that will sell you homemade dango if you've been properly introduced. The fact that there is nothing here that runs on internal combustion. A little girl that sells flowers from that particular shop with her brother. The homes of various retired Shinigami. It's all so very bland, but in some ways, it's comforting. Far easier to digest than the maddening replay of memory and pain.

"Any questions?" Terazuma's voice stirs me out of my thoughts.

"Ah? Let me think…" It seems that my mind's uncharacteristically disordered. Well, it can't be helped, this being my first day of existence. Terazuma walks patiently along, waiting for me to reply.

"Tell me, Terazuma-san," I pause, my mind wandering back to the sight of myself in the tailor's mirror. "Why is it that all my scars have disappeared, save for this eye?" I brush back my hair, revealing a perfectly normal eye, save for the fact that it doesn't quite match the other, being of a pale blue instead of quicksilver gray. "Yet I recall that Tsuzuki's scar remains…"

"Eh, that? 'M not sure exactly what it means," Terazuma says, looking a little uncomfortable. "Everyone's different. Some things stay, others don't." He kicks a stray pebble from the path as he walks. "Kannuki-kun, she's got that one orange eye. It's because she saw the bomb that killed her go off out of that eye. Sato-san - he was Tatsumi's old partner - was a blind deaf-mute until he became a Shinigami. I think Tatsumi might have been blind too as a human. Not sure about that, it's just something I heard. Me," And this, he stops for emphasis, "If I stay too long in one place, my shadow sticks for a few seconds."

We wait, and sure enough when he moves, the impression of his shadow lingers before fading like a wisp of black smoke against the ground.

"I see. Does that have to do with how you died?"

"Yeah." He gives me a look that ends the conversation. We walk in silence the rest of the way back.

*******

|Terazuma|

Terazuma hates remembering. He really does. Because even after over fifty years, the pain can still be unbearable.

There were reasons that he and Wakaba became partners. It wasn't originally because of his condition - that came later, after KaGanKokuShunGei. It was just a lucky coincidence that she could tame him. The main reason had to do with the way they died. They were only three days apart.

It had been the beginning of another hot summer's day. The sun blazed in the sky. Terazuma had been on his way home from the graveyard shift in the Hiroshima Prefectural Police. It was his least favorite duty, mainly because he couldn't stand to leave his sister home alone. Izumi-chan was only nine then, and they were orphans. He had promised to protect her always, no matter what. His mother had died giving birth to her, and his father joined the military out of grief, only to die in Manchuria, leaving Terazuma to raise her.

But that morning in early August, when he returned home, the house had been ransacked. Shattered glass. Smears of blood on the walls. His sister had disappeared. He was frantic, panicked, madly searching through the streets of the city after he had called in the report. Has anyone seen my sister. Please, I need to find my sister…

And that's when he saw it. A blinding flash. Wakaba says the same thing - that it was like the descent of another sun, only it was brighter and hotter than anything she had ever seen before in her life. She only saw it out of the corner of her eye before she died. He was engulfed.

At least he wasn't alone when he died. Nearly forty-five thousand came with him in the initial wave of deaths. Juuohcho had been temporarily overwhelmed, and agents had been scrambling madly to get the situation under hand. Then three days later, another twenty-two thousand. That's when Wakaba came, from Nagasaki.

Terazuma does not like being reminded of the end of the war.

When things had settled down, he was allowed by the keeper of the death registry to look for his sister.

She wasn't in it, though. Her candle still burns somewhere in the Castle.

Part of him is glad she's alive, somewhere in Chijou, an old woman by now, perhaps with her own children and grandchildren. Terazuma likes to imagine that she lives in a beautiful house, with a doting husband that loves her and adult children that visit her with their babies. Her house has big windows to let in the morning sun and a garden where she can plant sunflowers and irises. She'll still dance in the summer rain with her yellow umbrella, even though it embarrasses her children.

He imagines that she has a calico cat and she'll name it Neko-chan, because that's her favorite name for a cat. It's uninspired, but it's so very much something that she would do. He wants to go visit her someday. If he can find her.

It fuels his existence. Sometimes, it keeps him from sleeping at night. That's why he sleeps downstairs, because he wouldn't want to wake Wakaba up if he's roused by nightmares. His worst nightmares involve her suffering somewhere dark and unknown. Yet as time passes, there are less of them. But that doesn't stop him from desperately wanting to know what had happened on the morning of August 6, 1945, and where Izumi-chan is now.

She had packed him a bento that night before he left for work. It was just rice with an umeboshi, a pickled plum so salty and sour that just thinking of it used to make his mouth water. It was also a symbol of the nation, like the Hinomaru flag with its rising red sun, a patriotic lunch in those times. She knew he loved them, and even though expenses were tight because of the war, she had saved up money selling the flowers that she grew to buy him umeboshi. To this day, he can't eat them.

Terazuma still searches for her. Every year, on her birthday, he makes an appointment to meet with the keeper and go through the year's deaths, searching for her name. This is the fifty-fifth year since she disappeared.

And yet, he hasn't found her.

He might, though. Someday. If he recognizes her.

She'll recognize him, of course. After all, he hasn't changed a bit in fifty-five years.

*******

|Hisoka|

Now that I think about it, I've never really been inside of Tsuzuki's apartment.

Usually I just stand on the front step and hit the doorbell enough times to wake the dead. Or the downstairs neighbors. Then he lets me in so I'll stop kicking the door, and I wait at the entry while he scrambles around for clothes. Sometimes it's really funny, because you'll hear him cursing up a storm, stumbling over something in his room while changing. Once in a while, I'll wince when he stubs a toe. At least it heals fast.

After work, we went out for a cheap dinner (two item combo - 390 yen each plus tax) and took a walk in a nearby park. It was cold, looks like it might rain late tonight, but fortunately we both had our coats. Then we stopped by my place and I picked up some clothes and my toothbrush, as well as a few books for the weekend in case I have some free time.

This is seriously weird. I feel so nervous doing this. But I guess it's necessary, for his safety and mine. In case of Muraki, break glass. I think I'll get stickers made up with that slogan and a little graphic of Muraki getting poked with a big stick. In the eye. I'll put it on every flat surface in Meifu until the peace division kicks my ass for littering or vandalism or whatever they call it. Actually, that might be fun.

But I'll live. With Tsuzuki, for now that is. It's nothing more than embarrassing. But thinking of my green-and-white toothbrush and how it'll be resting on the bathroom counter next to Tsuzuki's…god, I think I'm going to blush now.

So now, he's invited me in, we've taken off our shoes, hung up our coats, and he's cheerfully giving me the grand tour. That's basically an overstatement. For all his abilities, he can only afford a small place. I suppose this has something to do with the debts he's racked up with his various creditors. Poor guy. Too bad it doesn't work like the Chijou, unless they have loan consolidation here too. Well, actually that might be a bad thing, now that I think about it. What if the Hakushaku held all his debts instead of them being scattered amongst various people? Ugh, I don't even want to think about that.

Tsuzuki's apartment is the consummate bachelor's apartment. I bet that if I looked in the 'harvest gold' colored refrigerator, it'd probably be bone bare, except for bottles of water or soda (but probably beer) and moldering cartons of take-out. He's got a cozy living room and a tiny kitchen with an adjoining dining area. The bathroom's probably better described as a closet with a shower, tub, sink, and toilet. At least it's got a window.

His furniture looks like a conglomeration of styles dating back to the 1920's - a smattering of old traditional furniture mixed with anything from the art-deco bookshelves to the round dining table, which looks to have been bought in the 1980's, a monstrosity of glass and brushed aluminum. All of this in a very traditional-style apartment, down to the hardwood floors, square-paned windows, and sliding doors.

Either he's got incredibly strange taste, or he bought everything on sale. Guess what I think?

It doesn't take long for us to end up in his bedroom. It's surprisingly bare, nothing but his bed and some sliding storage compartments built into the walls. Even his bed's simple - just a futon laid out on the tatami-matted floor. Seeing it sends little weird shivers up and down my spine. I can't even tell what Tsuzuki's feeling because I'm so unbalanced by the sight of it. The whole thing's a rumpled mess, with a heavy cotton-quilted coverlet patterned with flowers that's bunched up where he rolled out of it that morning, and there's some cast-off crumpled clothes tossed on top of it.

Okay, breathe, idiot. I'm totally freaking out on the inside. I don't even know why.

"S-s-so…er…Tsuzuki," I'm starting to stammer. And I can feel the trace edge of a blush rising up in my cheeks. Damnit, damnit, damnit! "Um, I forgot to ask you…you know, earlier…uh…" My brain's not working. I must kick it back into gear. "Oh right. Earlier today, it seemed…um…I think Tatsumi was kind of upset about something you said." I finally blurt out. But now his previous state of happiness is melting away like a popsicle in July. Ah crap. Is it physically possible to kick yourself in the head?

But he recovers, at least on the outside. I think he's trying to evade me.

"Ah, Hisoka, that reminds me. I should show you my book…let me see if I can find it." Tsuzuki says brightly. "Here, have a seat, and I'll look for it." He gestures absently at his futon bed. There is no other furniture in the room, so I put my bag down next to the door, and sit on top of the rumpled coverlet. My hand absently smoothes the wrinkled cotton.

Tsuzuki goes around sliding open drawers to find whatever it is he's looking for. His thoughts are a quiet focused hum that drowns out the guilt. I guess it's a good thing. I really shouldn't have brought that back up.

"Ah ha!" Tsuzuki pulls out a slightly dusty looking tome. "Here we go." He wipes off the dust with his hand, and cleans it off against his black trouser leg. It leaves a faint mark.

"What is it?" He plops down next to me on the futon, carelessly. The urge to blush is rising. I'm thinking very, very hard about something else, something that won't make me turn beet red. Like kittens. Kittens are nice. Nice and fluffy. Kittens are snuggly. And so's Tsuzuki. Damnit.

"My photo album," Tsuzuki beams. "Most of these pictures are from right before the war."

He opens it up to the beginning. There they are, in black and white, standing at the entrance of the general administration office, all eighteen of the summons division staff. Well, not really. The only people I recognize in this picture are the Hokkaido girls, Tatsumi, Konoe, and Tsuzuki. The rest are completely different.

"Who are these other people?" I ask.

"A lot of people retired or moved on after the war," Tsuzuki explains. "Those were hard times. We saw too much." His tone suggests that that's as far as he's willing to go on that subject.

"Oh," I say, feeling stupid.

"Anyway, let me show you what it used to look like," Tsuzuki smiles at me, reassuringly. We go through the album while he makes little comments. The typewriters in the main office are clunky and archaic. Everyone's so stiff in these old pictures, lined up like they're ready for the execution squad. I guess that they weren't quite used to the phenomena of taking pictures.

"Who's this?" We hit upon an old yellowing photograph tucked between the pages. Tatsumi sitting in a chair. He's wearing a stern suit that looks to be from the 1920s or 30s with little round wire-framed glasses. Beside him stands a man in dark, likely black traditional clothing, a katana and wakizashi belted at his waist, his long hair pulled into a ronin's topknot. It's an even older picture than the others, set on a heavy paper backing.

"Eh? Oh, that's Sato-san."

"Sato-san?"

"He was Tatsumi's first partner," Tsuzuki explains. "I barely ever saw him, because he was almost always on assignment. When Tatsumi first started, Sato-san wouldn't let him do anything other than paperwork, which is how we became friends. Once, a long time ago, Tatsumi told me about him. Sato-san was the first person that Tatsumi met, and even taught him how to use the shadow power when they became partners. It's rare for a situation like that to happen."

"Wow…I didn't know that."

"Tatsumi doesn't like to talk about it," Tsuzuki says, uncomfortably. Quickly, he changes the subject. "Sato-san was really powerful. Maybe even stronger than Tatsumi. Everyone that knew him was afraid of him, even Tatsumi. But once they started letting me do cases, he retired. He said he was tired of working Tokyo district. That was my first real assignment," Tsuzuki adds.

"Why were you in Tokyo?"

"It's just the way things work. Enmacho was founded in Tokyo, which makes it the most important block," Tsuzuki shifts into a more comfortable position, with his legs sprawled out before him, the book set aside and forgotten. He pulls his pillows over so he can lean against one, and offers me the other. I rest against it gingerly.

"The way I understand it, they try to match Shinigami in pairs that are similar in strength, or at least potential. In the less important districts, like mine, it doesn't really matter if they don't match exactly. But in Tokyo, the higher-ups would rather leave it half-open and make other areas take up the work until they can get the right person to fill the position. You have to be really powerful to be assigned Tokyo because of the potential for trouble. That's why they were glad to get Tatsumi, because Sato-san's old partner was killed in the field and he didn't have a partner for several years. Tatsumi's probably the only one that can match Sato-san. They were partners for about ten years? I don't remember exactly how long it was. But when I started being sent out on assignment, Sato-san decided it was time to retire. He still lives in Meifu somewhere."

It's definitely a part of Tatsumi that I had never known existed. I suppose not very many people have been around long enough to know about his past, and those who do don't speak of it. I listen as intently as I can but I'm getting sleepy…ugh, the day's finally catching up to me and I feel really tired.

"Tatsumi and I were partners from when I started until the end of the war. After that, he told me he didn't want to work together anymore. He had the Chief transfer me to second division." Tsuzuki says thoughtfully. It takes me a moment to recognize what he's feeling - I think it might be longing. At least part of it is. It's hard to tell what he's feeling because it's so multi-layered, and I'm too tired to sort it all out. It's just a fuzzy hum in the background right now. "I guess he didn't want me to be responsible for Tokyo."

"Did you want to stay working there?" I ask vaguely, shifting against the pillow. Tsuzuki's bed is really surprisingly comfortable for a futon on the floor. Maybe it's because I'm tired, but it's so soft and warm. I just want to curl up in it. I think I'll do that.

"Mmm, no. But I didn't want to let Tatsumi down either." Tsuzuki's lying back now and looking at the ceiling.

I'm fading. Tsuzuki's last words seem to drift around my head like little wispy clouds. "Don't worry about it," I say fuzzily. Actually, I'm not sure at this point, because I could be dreaming. My hand closes over Tsuzuki's. He looks sort of startled, but I don't really care. "I'm sure Tatsumi understands, because he knows you and you're his friend."

I don't remember what happened after that.

*******

|Terazuma|

"Tadaima!" Wakaba's back from the beach.

"Welcome home," Terazuma responds, as he finishes up balancing the month's accounting. "I'm in the living room."

"Ah! Hajime-chan, look what I found for you!" Wakaba beams as she steps in. Her hair's in a happy disarray from the sea breeze, and she's flushed with excitement. It almost makes Terazuma smile, but it's not his style.

Instead, he manages with a "What?" and an "I hope it's not alive."

"Shells!" She hands him a little white paper bag. Inside are tiny shells like hard little butterfly wings, in variegated shades of pearly violets, blues, and greens among cookie crumbs and sand.

"Thank you," Terazuma wonders exactly what he's going to do with shells.

"Aren't they pretty?" Wakaba smiles at him, as if trying to extract a smile back.

"Sure," Terazuma manages a grin. "I think I'll put them in on my desk at work."

If it's possible, Wakaba's smile grows brighter. Terazuma looks away uncomfortably.

"Ne, Hajime-chan?" Wakaba says as she's moving around the house, tossing her sandy beach towel in the laundry bin toward the back of the house, and walking into the kitchen for a glass of water. "How was your day?"

"Just great, Kannuki," Terazuma replies. "I did dishes, watered the garden, did some laundry, and balanced my checkbook. Oh, and I put Muraki back to bed, because he wasn't looking so good after we got back from the tailor."

Wakaba walks in and sits down with her partner. She's burning with curiosity.

"So? What's he like?"

"Pretty nice guy, as murderers go. Seems calm. Asks some stupid questions though and can be kind of annoying." Terazuma says with a frown. "Just don't get to close to him," he adds.

"Why?" Wakaba blinks. "He's one of us now, isn't he?"

"Yeah. But that doesn't erase what he did in his previous life. Just look at Tsuzuki." Terazuma responds. "He nearly chopped Kurosaki-kun in half."

Wakaba pouts. "That's not fair, and you know that, Hajime. He was possessed by a demon."

"Whatever." Terazuma shrugs. "But if I were you, I wouldn't trust him until proven otherwise. Right now, he's pretty helpless, but who knows? Haven't you ever read his file?"

"No. What did he do?"

"Let's see…last year in Kyoto, he murdered nearly a dozen women, a university professor, and drove Tsuzuki to the brink of suicide. That's just one case." Terazuma says, counting off on his fingers. "Then there's the passenger cruise ship that he sank…the secondary deaths from the girl he brought back from the dead…just from three cases total in the last two years. They've been digging up the archives and it might go back even further. The first one's from when he was about fifteen. There's some issues with the unresolved status of his parents and brother."

Wakaba's stunned into silence. "I…didn't know that. That man must have lived a very sad life."

"Don't feel sorry. Just don't let him get close to you."

"Oh, Hajime. Don't be silly. I'm tough." Wakaba poses, flexing her arm. "I can handle myself. Unless this means that you want to protect me? From that bad man." Her voice gets girlishly sweet.

"P-protect you? I have to do that anyway, since I'm your partner. But don't expect me to come running if you get yourself in trouble, because it's not like I'm on call twenty-four hours a day." Terazuma makes a face.

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say," Wakaba pokes Terazuma in the ribs, inciting a yelp from him. "But I think we can trust him to not hurt any of us. Besides, if he does, I'll just send Kazuma and Nonomiya after him, and they'll kick his butt."

"Yeah, but if he can outwit Tsuzuki…"

"Baaaaka! Anyone can outwit Tsuzuki if they've got strawberry cake. Or donuts."

"Yeah, that's right." Terazuma can't help but snicker.

"Well, you decide where you want to go have dinner, and we'll go out to eat like I promised. I'm going to go take a shower. Why don't you go see if Muraki-san wants to come?"

"All right."

Terazuma's hoping that Muraki's still asleep as he walks toward his room. He and Wakaba don't go out to eat very often, and he'd like to treat her to something good. Of course, they'll probably have to fight for the bill since she wanted to take him out, and she'll threaten to hug or kiss him and make him transform, but that's the way they are. It's just what they do.

Terazuma knocks on the door. After a moment, there's no response, so he opens it.

It's empty. Muraki's not where Terazuma left him.

Terazuma panics, wondering where Muraki is. After all, Wakaba's home, and he could be doing something terrible. Awful. To her. He can faintly hear her singing in the shower upstairs. Quickly, he rushes out of the room. As he does so, Terazuma notices that the back door is open. He remembers closing it when he went out to the garden earlier, so he goes out running.

Muraki is outside in the growing twilight. The rising moon's a pale sickle glow behind a veil of gathering clouds. His silver hair and pale face makes him seem like a floating ghost in the falling darkness. He's got a piece of pink chalk in his hand and he's drawing something on the flat concrete surface of the back patio. Terazuma's about to say something, mainly because he's mad, but he waits for Muraki to finish. He knows he shouldn't interrupt. The rules are very specific about this when it comes to spellcasters.

A few minutes later, Muraki's done.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, casting a conduit?" Terazuma's twitching with anger. "This is my backyard!"

"I'm curious. I want to see if I can go back." Muraki says simply. "This is the only way I know how."

"Go back?" Terazuma blinks.

"To Chijou." Muraki gestures absently at the darkening sky, as if it held the key to unlocking the world. "I have unfinished business."

"Yeah, don't we all?" Terazuma fumes. "You're not allowed back. They won't let you go until everything's settled and you've been assigned. And even then, you can't just do as you please. There are rules! And you! Have to follow them!"

"Rules?" Muraki shrugs dismissively. "Tell me, Terazuma-san. Wouldn't you use this second chance as a way to fix what you can?"

"Second chance? This is not a second chance!" Terazuma's quickly getting dangerously mad. "You're here because you fit the job description. You have unfinished business, have a strong attachment to the living world, and have enough power to pass whatever tests they decided to throw at you. Like everyone else who works for Juuohcho. This is not a second chance. This isn't your special chance at redemption or salvation or whatever words they're using for it these days. You're just here to work because you're strong enough and smart enough, and you had better well do a damned good job of it, or they'll send you packing off to somewhere worse. Don't even think about going back to Chijou on your own!"

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Muraki looks perplexed.

"Get back inside and behave. We're going to go out to dinner in about an hour, and you're coming along with us because I can't trust you by yourself if I leave you alone. I'll get you the policy manuals and you can start reading. And don't think I won't kick your ass if you don't know everything by Monday. I've been really nice so far because it's your first day, but don't think you deserve any of it. Because unlike those people up in the Chijou, I know what the hell you're about, Muraki Kazutaka, and I'm not about to let you play me for a fool."

Terazuma stomps off and comes back with a running garden hose and a broom.

He hands them to Muraki.

"But first you're going to clean that shit off my patio."

Muraki's mouth opens as if he's about to say something, but he shuts it. Meekly, he goes about scrubbing off the intricate circle. Terazuma watches him like a hawk, making sure that he erases every possible mark. Before he goes back in the house, Terazuma confiscates his chalk.

"You're not going anywhere or doing anything unless I know what you're up to," Terazuma says as they walk inside. He looks at Muraki closely. "And go wash your hands. I don't want you getting dirt on my manuals." Muraki complies silently.

Some day, they'll all look back on this and laugh. At least, that's what Terazuma is hoping for. After all he's never had a pet serial killer before.

*******

|Muraki|

When I was alive, my life was full of ridiculous meals. The afterlife isn't particularly better.

Whether my dear and sainted mother (who art in hell, I suppose, or whatever equivalent exists for people such as her) and her occasional mangled attempts at meal creation, or this very odd noodle shop of the afterworld that appears to be staffed by old ladies and floating waterfowl, it seems that no matter what, I can't escape from strange situations when it comes to my dining arrangements.

Until now, I've managed to not gape like a tourist, but it's difficult to maintain one's composure when something that appears for all intents and purposes to be a floating anthropomorphic flamingo hands you a menu and asks you for your drink preferences. I'm beginning to suspect that perhaps Tsuzuki-san *was* the model of the average Shinigami when it came to finances, as everything here appears to run on a shoestring budget. I believe the theory crystallized when Terazuma took full advantage of my momentary hesitation to order a round of ice water.

But the food is surprisingly good, hot bowls of thick udon noodles with pink-and-white half-moons of fishcake and green slivers of scallions. The company, on the other hand, is decidedly questionable. Wakaba's a gem of a girl - friendly, polite, and as cheerful as daffodils on a bright summer's day. Terazuma, on the other hand, is perhaps near to the only person in the world I've ever met that could conceivably put the fear of God in me.

Perhaps, it's to do with his eyes. The closer he gets to upset, the redder they get, a swimming haze of color in what normally should be a dark brown close to black. I imagine it to be like a swirl of blood, a crimson ghost that flutters through his vision. It's terribly discomfiting. Particularly since in the twelve hours or so that I've known him, he's quite often angry.

We eat quietly. Someone - I'm certain it was Oriya - once told me that the measure of an excellent restaurant is in the silence, as good food will preempt any conversation.

"Ah, Kannuki-san," I begin, once we're mostly done with the meal. "Tell me, do you know how long most people work as Shinigami?"

"Muraki-san, you don't have to call me that," she replies, setting down her chopsticks. "It sounds so stiff and proper. Call me Wakaba." Her personality is permeated with a simple clarity - genuine in every aspect. It's certainly rare, and infinitely refreshing.

I smile, calculatedly. "Then, if that's the case, you should call me Kazutaka, if you like." I can see Terazuma's hand tremble at Wakaba's pleased expression. Well now, there's something.

"All right! Kazutaka-san it is!" She beams, and pushes her bowl forward on the table, finished. "And as for your question, it really depends on the person. Sometimes, if people finish up what was keeping them tied to the world, they move on quickly. Some people stay even after they stop working because they like it here, or they don't feel like moving on. And some people…well…"

"Some people never finish up their unfinished business, and are stuck here until they can earn the right to retire." Terazuma interjects, gesturing with his spoon. "It's in Enma's interest to have a staff where people can't tie up their loose ends, so they're stuck here forever."

"Oh Hajime. That's just a rumor."

"If that's the case, then what about Tsuzuki?" My attention snaps to the fore at the sound of the name. "He'll be working here forever, since everyone that he knew when he was alive is already dead, and he's always getting written up. You know as well as I do that most of his violations come from him trying to help his partners move on. That's why he's had so many partners," Terazuma scowls. "The man's an absolute moron to be going against Enma like that. One day he'll go too far and Enma'll send him packing."

"I don't know about that," Wakaba replies, looking troubled. "Because they let me look through the registry after I came…"

"Yeah, me too. But you don't see them letting me go off to look for my si…" Terazuma's mouth closes around the last word, stopping the line of logic before it can progress. He looks at me suspiciously.

It's all very, very interesting.

Just as he's about to continue, the bill arrives. The two spend a minute or two half-heartedly bickering over it before Wakaba pulls out her purse and starts counting out the money.

"I'm very sorry to inconvenience you, Wakaba-chan," I say, once the waiter's taken the money. "Might I offer to take you out once I'm settled in…?" I let the question linger in the air.

Wakaba blushes furiously. It's quite adorable. I certainly hope that Terazuma's watching this.

"Oh no, it's all right! It's our responsibility to make sure that you're taken care of until everything's been set up! They'll reimburse me for this anyway." From the corner of my eye, I can vaguely tell that Terazuma's eyes are swirling with color. His expression is pulled into a deep scowl, the marks along his cheekbones drawn tight with tension. I don't know if Wakaba notices this. It appears that she doesn't.

"But really, it's the least I can do," I reply smoothly, leaning over to pat her hand. Terazuma's expression suggests that he's close to property damage. "After all, you've been gracious enough to give me shelter and provide me with meals - you really should let me take you out sometime."

At that, Terazuma stands up with a quick jerk, rattling the dishes on the table.

"We better hurry. It looks like rain outside," Terazuma says bluntly, his tone indicating that our conversation was effectively over. Wakaba begins to gather up her things and put on her coat. I stand and push the chair in against the table. Terazuma glares at me as if he could wish for nothing but a horrible and messy death upon me. But before we leave the table, Terazuma motions for me to wait.

"One more thing," Terazuma grabs the receipt. He thrusts the slip of paper at me. "This is your first lesson."

"Lesson?" I take the receipt and study it. It was a very inexpensive meal.

"Yeah, it's the first rule of being a Shinigami," Terazuma says, as he taps out a cigarette. "Keep all your receipts. Lose this, and I'll feed you to KokuShunGei-sama."

I nod, and carefully tuck the receipt into my pocket. Shinigami, is it? I suppose I'll have to grow accustomed to that.

We step out into the windy night. It's grown cold.

*******

|Hisoka|

It's so warm, Tsuzuki. I don't think I've ever been this warm before in my life. Not hot, not cold, just…perfect. Perfectly right.

I've never felt this right before in my life.

Somewhere, I can hear rain. It falls with a soft uneven patter.

It's dark. I can't see where I am, but I'm so sleepy that I don't care.

I'm holding Tsuzuki's hand, but I don't know why. Doesn't matter.

It feels so good here. The heavy coverlet presses against me, but I'm pressed against his warmth. His arms around me. It's right. I can hear the slow and steady beating of his heart.

I'm going back to sleep now. Good night.

*******

|Muraki|

Faintly, it begins. The tap of rain against the glass, an old friend welcoming me into night. I've cigarettes now and am smoking one, setting aside the heavy tomes of the policy books for tonight. Wisps of smoke linger in the air, catching against the faint light before dissipating. The desk lamp's a spot of light against the darkness, and I'm a white shadow against black.

It's the first night.

I'm here. It seems I may be here for a long while to come. I'm unsure as to whether this is a good or bad thing. It's just what it is.

Time ticks away, the clock tells me that it's far past midnight.

Inside, outside, it's quiet, but for the soft fall of rain.

Exhale. Pale smoke mists around me.

If there are no second chances, then what is there left to do?

When I was alive, I lived for a past I could never return to, and a future that I could not touch. Now, it seems that the only thing left is to go to bed and wait for tomorrow.

Still, I must return somehow. To the living world. There are apologies to be made. A friend who had to arrange the funeral. Farewells.

I don't think I can face them, but I must. It's a promise that I have made to myself. Let it be the only one that I don't have to break.

In the land of ghosts, the way seems long and unforgiving.

I suppose it's only fair.

*******

|Wakaba|

This is Wakaba's dream.

She's had this dream for over fifty years. This year was the fifty-fifth.

It's mid-morning. She's in the kitchen making onigri for lunch. The summer heat is stifling. She's worried.

The war's progress has been bad. Okinawa and Iwo Jima have fallen. Reports are spreading about a horrible new weapon that destroyed Hiroshima earlier this week, killing tens of thousands in one mighty blast.

But that's not what Wakaba's worried about.

Her older brother was a pilot, and a year ago the aircraft carrier he was on engaged the Americans. Afterwards, the military had picked up stray survivors off of the tiny Pacific islands surrounding the site of the battle. They were sent letters of condolence. Missing in action, presumed dead. She hopes that maybe he's still alive somewhere, hiding from the Americans and breaking open coconuts for his dinner. Her father's somewhere in the Phillipines with the navy. He's a mechanic. They haven't heard from him in weeks.

The door opens. Tadaima. Okaeri. Her mother's back from the government office. She goes there every morning to see if there's news of her husband. Today though, she looks drained.

Something's wrong. Wakaba sets down the half-made onigri, and washes her hands quickly. The rice is sticky on her fingers. Her mother's slumped against the doorway, shoulders shaking with sobs.

Wakaba's afraid. A cold sick feeling sinks down into her stomach as she walks toward her mother.

Her mother's crying. He's dead. Her father's dead. He'll never come home again. His ship was blown to pieces and sunk by the Americans. There are no survivors. Not even bodies to bring home.

Wakaba's crying now too. She can't help it. She reaches out for her mother.

That's when the bullet entered her chest. It's a fatal blow.

Her mother had never been stable. She had lived only for her husband. Her family. Her fragile mental state was a secret that no one else was supposed to know. Even from the time her and her brother were little children, they knew that they should never, ever speak of their mother's fits.

And now, she tells Wakaba, now they can all be together again. Happy. A family reunited in the world of the dead. Wakaba can only watch helplessly as her mother turns the gun on herself in her madness.

It's mercifully brief, but the image is forever seared into her memory.

As Wakaba's dying, she pulls herself close to her mother's body. She's still warm. I forgive you, Wakaba says to the vacant eyes. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I wanted our family to be together always too.

Seconds tick by. Quickly, the pain is starting to feel like something that's happening to someone else.

At precisely 11:02 A.M., as Wakaba draws her last struggling breaths, her skin ice cold from blood loss, she happens to turn her head ever so slightly. Out of her right eye she sees the world's second atomic bomb explode in a blossom of brightness, a second orange sun that burns with the fury of a primordial star as buildings shred before its destructive path. A tiny tree in the distance flies into the air like a scrap of paper caught in the wind, and that's the last thing Wakaba sees before she's consumed in darkness.

Everyone thinks that they know the way she died. So tragic. After all, she did come in the first wave of deaths. No one knows what really happened, except her. Not even Hajime.

Tonight, it's just a dream. Wakaba unconsciously pulls the covers closer, as rain streaks down her windows.

*******

|Hisoka|

The cold gray morning light wakes me from deep, dreamless sleep. The air beyond the confines of the bed is damply chill, and I can hear the uneven beat of the raindrops on the roof.

My arm's feeling kind of numb. I move it, trying to shake off the feeling of pinpricks dancing along my skin. Nothing happens.

This confuses me. So I push myself closer to awareness, closer to wakefulness.

My arms are fine. But there's an arm wrapped snugly around my shoulders, and my head is pillowed against it. It's not my arm that I'm feeling. It's Tsuzuki's.

Normally, I'd panic. I'd probably hit him too, if I were thinking straight. But I don't, because it's too cozy here, and I'm full of comfortable drowsiness. His feelings are running over into mine, filling me with a profound sense of warmth and well-being. I guess it's because I'm here in his arms.

In his arms. Embarrassment floods my cheeks with hotness, and the feelings overflow before I can stem them. Tsuzuki stirs; woken by my momentary fluster, and his eyes blink open. When he becomes aware of the situation, his cheeks become faintly flushed with color.

"Good morning." He smiles sheepishly, and shifts the arm that's beneath me. A few seconds later, the pinpricks disappear. His hand reaches up to absently touch my hair.

I'm too dumbfounded to speak. All I can do is stare at him. We're facing each other in the bed, his arms still wrapped around me.

"You fell asleep," Tsuzuki explains, his blush deepening by degrees as his fingers catch a strand of my hair, feeling it between his fingers, "but you were holding my hand, and you wouldn't let go." He smiles, a little apologetically. "I couldn't move without waking you. I guess I must have fallen asleep too."

"Mmm. It's okay. Thanks for letting me stay here."

A whiff of anxiety. It's like a little dance on the inside of my stomach. I think it's from him, but I'm not completely sure anymore. My senses feel like they're doubled, but somehow melded together into a cohesive unit.

I try to fix this moment in my mind, because I know it can't last forever. The patter of rain against the glass, the white gray light coming in through the window, the weight of the coverlet against my body. Little strands that represent roads in a map of memory that all lead me toward Tsuzuki. Any second, one of us will move to get up and it'll be over.

His free hand rises hesitantly, and he brushes away a stray strand of hair that's fallen on my face. We look at each other, green meeting violet. I touch the hand resting against my cheek, feeling his strong fingers as if they were my own.

His grip on me changes, almost imperceptibly, and he draws me up toward him.

Our lips meet. His kiss is chastely sweet, his lips gently pressed against mine.

Mine, however, is more intense, as my arms twine around his neck, pulling him closer.

*******

To be continued…

Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Yoko.

Thanks to my prereaders: Cyrus Marriner, DWE, and RubyD. Thanks to RubyD being an invaluable resource of YnM information (characters, continuity, chronology, etc.), DWE for all her support, and Cyrus for all his help and inspiration. In addition, RubyD suggested the idea that Tsuzuki may not have been immediately allowed to work on cases (due to his mental stability) and Cyrus contributed the ideas of Terazuma's shadow, and Wakaba dying before the bomb hit. Thank you guys! It wouldn't be nearly as good without all your help! ^_^

Author's notes:
Timeline is post-Kyoto. Continuity is a mixture of anime and manga up through volume 9 with my own random ideas thrown into the mix (with a few liberties taken). There's a curry place in Los Angeles called the Curry House that has dishes along the same lines as those that Tsuzuki and Hisoka ate (curries and Japanese-style Italian pasta). Dango (the way I've had them) is like little mochis on a stick with the fillings on the outside. Onigri is a rice ball. I picked the name "Sato" from a listing of common surnames found in various parts of Japan. Umeboshi is a pickled plum that is extremely salty and sour. Udon are thick wheat noodles.

Sorry if it seems like an abrupt end, but this chapter's gone far, far longer than I thought it would. ^^; The next chapter will include Enma's decision, and Muraki's assignment (hopefully). I'm trying!

Behind the Scenes (note: In the chronology we worked out, we thought that it'd work best if Tatsumi died around 1934. Ask D for any details.):
[23:27] biggsdl3: I was looking at historic events that resulted in lots of deaths in 1934, and Mao's Long March is one of them.
[23:28] Ruby StarD: *laughs at Muraki* That's right, wench, listen to Hajime-chan and wipe that up.
[23:28] Ruby StarD: ^_^ Aw, I love humbled Muraki. I do.
[23:29] evilasiangenius: bitchslapped into submission. whee!
[23:29] GenrouDocky: Shackled Muraki is pretty cool, as well.
[23:29] evilasiangenius: remind me, and I'll do a bit with him and Tatsumi and bondage. ;)
[23:29] Ruby StarD: XD Go Terazuma.
[23:29] GenrouDocky: ooo!
[23:30] Ruby StarD: o.o!
[23:30] GenrouDocky: Yay! (I should be disturbed, but I'm not.)
[23:30] GenrouDocky: oooh...I need to do a sumi-e of that
[23:31] biggsdl3: Wow! Nihon Iodine became the first to produce domestic aluminum in 1934! Maybe Tatsumi died in a tragic aluminum accident right as he was on the verge of making the discovery for his company!
[23:31] evilasiangenius: laugh
[23:31] biggsdl3: EAG, I'm giving you good ideas here.
[23:31] evilasiangenius: >.<
[23:31] evilasiangenius: right.
[23:31] evilasiangenius: they're brilliant!
[23:31] evilasiangenius: a tragic aluminum accident...to this day, Tatsumi can't stand the sight of aluminum siding or trailer parks.
[23:31] GenrouDocky: LAUGHS
[23:31] GenrouDocky: ...
[23:32] evilasiangenius: <Tatsumi> We thought it was the future *sniffle* But it was our graves!
[23:32] GenrouDocky: foil!
[23:32] Ruby StarD: ...........*dies*
[23:32] evilasiangenius: that's how you fight him. You wrap him in foil.
[23:32] evilasiangenius: he'll scream like a little girl. or Hisoka.
[23:32] biggsdl3: Yes. Only aluminum is reflective and malleable enough to defeat his shadow powers.
[23:33] Ruby StarD: "Hey, Tatsumi, want a coke?" "Is it in a can?" "Yes." "AH! Noooo!!"

Omake! I had this scene in mind, but I never wrote it. Here's the completely ridiculous version of that scene. This is mostly from Cyrus. Saji-san is the tailor.

If there is one thing that Muraki values, it's his freedom.

"Boxers or briefs?" Saji-san asks. Terazuma scowls and looks away, flustered.

"Eh?"

"Do you want boxers or briefs?" Saji-san taps his display of undergarments.

"I don't follow."

"Oh god." Terazuma stalks off.

"This is underwear. Which ones do you want?"

"Want?" Muraki blinks.

"Pervert!" Terazuma's temper snaps. "CHANGE!"

Insert property damage here.

(This is one reason why Muraki needed a nap after the visit to the tailor's. He spent a good hour dodging Terazuma and trying not to get his ass kicked.)

Also we were trying to think up who would be the omnipotent narrator. Here are the suggestions I can remember and a sample of how they would do it:

The Hakushaku:

"Oh, my dear, sweet Tsuzuki…if only I could…Terazuma! What are you doing in here! Shoo! I'm trying to fantasize. What, I'm supposed to be working here? Fine, fine…I'll narrate Terazuma. So Terazuma and Muraki did stuff. With things. Now, back to Tsuzuki, his violet eyes shone brightly as he slowly and sexily unbuttoned his shirt, starting with the top buttons…"

Saki:

"Let's see what my brother's up to today…Looks like he's in the shower. We'll sneak a peek - never let it be said that I don't like to help out the readers. Oh yeah. Wet and naked! Work it, Kazu-chan!"

Thanks for reading! ^_^ C&C can be sent to cori_ohki@hotmail.com Extras may be found on http://eag.squidkitty.org/